Actions Speak Louder Than Words
by The bestest ever123
Summary: Harry, member of the now dying Order, is living life as a mute and a rebel, but he has a choice, to either go back to the ones he never knew or to stay and fight, with the ones he's learned to love. Time-travel. Marauder-era
1. Chapter 1

**AN: ... ... :)**

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Harry groaned as the knife slashed through his stomach, the pain was unbearable, he could feel the thick warmth of blood drenching his torn shirt and pants, it hurt so much, and through it all he could hear the jeers of the Death Eaters surrounding him.

He screwed up his eyes, kept his head down, trying to stop the tears from falling, trying not to show them any signs of _weakness._

The daily torture session, open to all who'd like to see The-Boy-Who-Lived shit himself. Well not so much _boy_ anymore.

He ground his teeth in fury, in pain, the only good thing about these _meetings_ were the many _unique_ spells he had _picked up_ and he couldn't wait to _test_ them out.

More curses were cast at him and Harry gasped in pain when all the bones in his left arm were shattered.

Rage boiled up inside him and he fought the urge to retaliate. A new burst of fresh pain throbbed through his scar, more blood and Harry realized _he_ was coming.

The mocking laughter had died down and he could hear _his_ footsteps echoing louder with each step.

Fear overpowered him; it sliced through the hazy plains of his mind, like a knife drawing through soft flesh. The pain…

'_Harry, you remind me so much of your father.' _

He gave a bitter laugh; he was a Gryffindor, so if he was going to die he might as well do it with style right?

The whole room was silent apart from the shallow breaths of Harry and the drip of blood against the cold stone floor.

The footsteps had stopped and his scar was throbbing, he could feel blood dripping down his forehead. He bit his lip as he tried to stop him self from screaming out loud.

Thin, pale fingers forced up his chin and he was greeted with the familiar red eyes. Voldermort was the same as ever, the bald head, pale skin, and thin nose slits.

Harry grinned painfully through his chapped lips, "Hey, Tommy, still not looking any better I see," Harry croaked out.

Voldermort smirked and Harry's eyes narrowed slightly, "You're not looking so good either, maybe I can help you out," Harry's eyes widened in surprise as he drew out his wand and placed the tip against Harry's scar.

"_Crucio"_

Harry thrashed, his limbs flailed wildly, he screamed over and over, until his voice was hoarse.

Memories, _nightmares_ flashed through his skull, of his friends, family, _Ginny, _all gone… People he loved tormented him in their soft accusing voices, "If only you'd given yourself up in the first place, then maybe…"

The blood was flowing quicker and the restraints cut into his wrists,_ God, if you're listening, I'd really appreciate if you could help me out._

Harry groaned as the pain faded, what'd felt like hours had been mere minutes.

Harry mentally scolded himself, _he should've been prepared, what did he expect? But when Voldermort used the Unforgivables on him, it was like every fibre in his whole body was screaming to rip itself apart._

There was a pause, a sweet painless pause and then he was screaming and screaming, until 2 strong hands forced him still.

The Bitch- _Bellatrix Lestrange_ came forward; he could feel her long, greasy hair tickling his throat, the strong scent of her sickly perfume as it overpowered his senses.

He could feel the tip of her wand against his throat and his last remaining thought before his world was plunged into darkness.

_Ah shit, this is gonna hurt…_

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-X

Harry awoke with a start, sweating and gasping; he untangled himself from the bed sheets and groaned as he ran a hand through his hair.

He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, slowly stood up and chucked his alarm clock to the floor where it abruptly stopped ringing.

Slowly, he massaged his forehead with his fingers before opening the drawers and pulling out a box of anti-depressants, grimacing; he swallowed two pills, and then collapsed back onto the bed, with a groan.

15 minutes later a black-cloaked man slipped out of the Hog's Head and into the cool crisp night air. He hurried along the road at a brisk pace, his feet silent against the cobbled streets, robe fluttering slightly in the wind.

Harry stood outside the Leaky Cauldron, paused to look left and right, and then slipped into the alleyway beside it. He stood in the middle of the alleyway then turned to the right wall; where he hesitantly knocked once, twice, thrice. The bricks parted to reveal a battered black door. Harry took hold of the brass knocker and knocked.

Neville opened the door then gasped "Harry! Oh Merlin! Harry!"

He pulled Harry into a bone-crushing hug, "Merlin, you've changed."

He stared at the bruises forming along Harry's jaw, the dead eyes, sallow face and the scar across his left cheek. His trademark glasses had gone, there was a new awareness and paranoia that hadn't been there before and it hurt Neville to see everyone growing up so fast, without time to enjoy their childhood.

Neville gave a nervous laugh, "Guess we've got a new Mad-Eye Moody on our hands."

Harry gave a small grin before stepping through the new headquarters for the rest of the members of the Order of the Phoenix.

After Grimmauld Place had been infiltrated the Death Eaters had wasted no time in restoring it into its former dark state. At least Walburga Black – (Sirius's mother) would be kept happy.

Harry shifted his attention back onto Neville who was telling him what had been occurring, while he was in _captivity_.

They entered the main room where around 50 wizards sat huddled around in small groups, Harry glanced quickly around trying to find anyone he knew or recognized. No-one.

Neville noticed him looking, then blushed and stuttered guiltily, "most of our lot…was… well….they were the most active members in the Order…and…um...most are dead," he finished lamely and sadly.

Harry felt a pang of pity and gritted his teeth in frustration, longing to say something to comfort Neville.

Neville quickly changed the subject, "Look, many people in England have lost faith in you and many are giving up on you and turning to _him_, if we could just get word around that you are back then…"

Harry shook his head angrily, Neville groaned, "Look, all you have to do is stand at the front and we'll take care of the rest okay?" Harry sighed and nodded a_ "fine"_. Neville smiled. "Follow me."

They walked into the kitchen and he followed Neville as they pushed their way through the crowds, until they reached a group of wizards sitting in the corner, among them was Fleur, Kingsley Shackle bolt, Arthur, Mundugus Fletcher, Tonks and Professor McGonagall . The oddest bunch of wizards and witches, Harry had ever seen.

They all grinned when they saw Harry and Harry grinned back, his _rescue group _as they so _eloquently_ put it.

He could still remember the surprise that was etched onto Mundugus' face as he'd seen the state of Harry and who the hell knew _Fleur_ could put up a fight?!

But Harry was glad that although most of the Wizarding population was either Dark or prisoner, the Order was still running, still pulling different rebellious schemes to get them more noticed, still trying to recruit and hadn't given up on finishing Voldermort.

The Professor stood up quickly. "Is it alright if I borrow Harry for a few moments?" She asked Neville.

Neville nodded, "Oh yeah, go ahead."

Professor McGonagall smiled at him, then took Harry by the elbow and led him out. Harry raised an eyebrow but did not comment as he allowed himself to be dragged away.

X-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-X

They were in a dark, musty room, it was empty and Harry started to feel a little awkward. The professor was at the door casting silencing charms.

"Right, Harry," she began, "before Dumbledore died he entrusted me to give you this. He told me only to give it to you if things really got out of hand and like it or not they have."

Harry frowned wondering where this was going, "The Order's dead Harry, it's not like it was before, the number has dwindled and there is no hope left. "

She fished under her robe and pulled out a time turner, but closer inspection revealed that there was a crack going down one side and there was no sand in the timer, Harry looked at it curiously.

Then he pulled out a pen and a notebook. He scribbled down quickly, _"Professor, what is it? And how's it gonna work with no sand in the timer?"_

"Please call me Minerva, we're not in class anymore Harry." She said with a smile, "I really have no idea. All Dumbledore said was that if you were ever in need of dire help then turn the dial like you'd do with a normal time turner…"

Harry frowned, just then there were 2 knocks on the door and Tonks peered into the room, "is everything all right?"

Harry nodded and hid the time turner under his shirt. Tonks frowned suspiciously, "Right, well they're calling you down Harry."

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**AN: um...um... oooohhh look cookies!!! (Mayb if I don't say anything about reviewing you'll review!!!) :) :) :)**


	2. Falling from Grace

**AN: I have discovered the world of ARG's and I am addicted... but you can't beat fanfiction :) **

**If you are reading this I'd really appreciate it if you reviewed and told me what you thought, becuase I do read through them...and they make me feel happy...**

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Harry sighed as they began to shout. Their shouts and cries of despair and pain, their accusations, Harry's head swam.

But he could understand their loss, the loss of their loved ones, he could understand their sense of betrayal, when they realised there was no Boy-Who-Lived to save them.

He could understand their determination and will to carry on fighting for their lives and for their losses.

He could understand their anger, that the Boy-Who-Lived had the nerve to just waltz in here, after all they'd experienced, that he had the nerve to stand up and say, "Let's carry on fighting." When he'd done _nothing_.

It was the same anger that had torn through his heart when he looked into Voldermort's eyes and realised that despite all of his efforts, all of Dumbledore's teachings, the Order, all had been in vain.

"While we've been fighting for our lives, you've been taking a vacation is that it?"

Shouts.

"Are you the Boy Who Lived? Did Dumbledore make a mistake? You were supposed to have taken down Voldermort, but according to the Daily Prophet he's still out there!!!"

More jeers.

"My husband and son were killed fighting, and you, you were hiding like a fucking coward!!!"

Anger.

A few men pulled out their wands.

"What d'yo have to say for yourself, coward!!?" A man snarled and Harry could see his own pain reflected in the man's eyes.

He longed to scream at the man, _I didn't run, I'd never run, I was right there with you, every second of your lives, I was right there, losing everything. Each pang of pain that you felt, I felt also. I was tortured, tortured for months! But I didn't betray the Order, not one fucking word escaped my lips. I was there all the time, with you fighting. You expect me to defeat him, but how can I? How, how can I when I can't defeat you. Why me? I'm not special, I dont have powers, I'm not the best in class, I'm not the best in magic, hell, I can't even speak!_

But he said nothing.

Neville's cries went unheard, ignored. Harry saw Mrs. McGonagall standing at the back, horrified and Harry grinned slightly.

"What? Cat got your tongue?" The man growled. Harry could stand it no longer.

There was a large CRACK, as Harry smashed his fist into the man nose.

Silence.

Harry stepped back, the man was clutching his face, blood trickled down his hands.

He grabbed his cloak and the crowd parted as he made his way to the doors, a few tried to stop him but he pushed them away and once again stepped into the night air.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

Harry wandered aimlessly through Hogsmead and stopped outside The Three Broomsticks.

The bell rang as he entered and he looked around awkwardly, there were a group of wizards and witches sitting around a large table. Judging by their attitude and clothes, Harry guessed they were pure-blood, most likely Death Eaters.

He quickly checked his glamour was in place, then he made his way to the bar where he ordered a glass of Firewhiskey. Madam Rosmerta had been replaced by big bearded man who glanced at him disdainfully. Harry sipped at his drink and listened to the conversation that was taking place behind him.

"Our Lords pretty angry though, I mean, this is like the 9th time that Potter's escaped."

"Tell me about it, but we're bound to find him, he can't run away forever."

"Actually Avery, knowing Potter, he probably can."

"Oh yeah, wanna bet?"

"5 galleons."

Harry heard the tinkle of money and swigged down the rest of the drink.

5 glasses later and Harry was starting to feel the side-effects.

"But still, the worst pureblood family has got to be the Weasleys."

"No, definitely the Longbottoms."

"Yeah, me and the Lestranges had a great time with the Longbottoms, you should've heard them. _Oh please, please, no, don't hurt Neville, not my son_. That was _aagees_ ago though."

More laughter. Harry growled, finished his drink and stood up, the room swayed in and out of focus. He scraped back his chair then stumbled over to where the _Death Eaters_ were sitting.

He saw red, they ignored him.

He slammed both of his hands onto the table and the conversation came to an abrupt halt.

_It was suicidal, but he was tired of doing nothing, he was tired of it._

"Oooh, look what we've found, a little drunkard," sneered a voice.

The buzzing in Harrys head increased ten-fold and so did this burning consuming anger, hate.

They sniggered and Harry smashed his hand across the table, their drinks fell. A few moments silence.

Harry nearly fell forward headfirst but two hands grasped him and wrestled his arms behind his back. "You shouldnt've done that," mocked a voice.

Someone took his wand and he heard a snap.

Harry didn't have the strength to struggle as the beatings began, he could feel their kicks and punches, he could feel the sharp sting of eaach hex, but the alcohol numbed most of the pain. He didn't know how long it lasted but it eventually stopped.

They let him go and he fell to the floor where he curled up tightly, whimpering, he was ashamed. That The-Boy-Who-Lived could be reduced to this.

"Who is he?"

"Dunno, don't care."

"Lets just kill him and get it over an done with."

They laughed and Harry realised that, _despite all that he'd been through, each broken heart, each heavy loss, he didn't want to die. _

Lying there, he saw a twinkle of gold underneath his robe and grasped it desperately, his life line.

"Avada Kedavra!"

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**AN: 'A Warrior is not defined by how much damage he can inflict but by how much pain he can endure....'**

**Please please review with a cherry on top.**

**P.S If you really do want a pairing then I'll be happy to oblige just tell me what you want, but I haven't really focused on one to be honest.**


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